Castle Walls
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Some people fantasize about being royalty, but Dick had to learn the hard way that it isn't as great as the fairytales make it seem.


**I don't celebrate Christmas… so why am I counting down to it? Because I like Santa! And making the cookies! And decorating the tree and hanging the stockings and seeing Jack's little eyes light up like the stars as he sees all the presents! I like tossing old photos into the fire and watching them burn… and waking up to see a world of white outside of my window… and making snow castles with Zac after being dragged behind three-wheeler, laughing my ass off (: I just love winter mostly… and presents (: **

**Disclaimer: Nothing be mine!  
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_Everyone thinks that I have it all. It's so empty living behind these castle walls. These castle walls… If I should tumble; if I should fall would anyone hear me screaming behind these castle walls? There's no one here at all… behind these castle walls… _

The Wayne Manor was like a tall and elegant castle, its strong stone walls holding everything high and mighty inside while keeping all of the potential dangers far away from the valuables. Its draw bridge opened for no one besides the king, his prince and their faithful servant. The high towers let the prince look out upon his vast kingdom, but all he could see was what the king allowed him too. A huge fence barred around the kingdom like a moat with vicious alligators and crocodiles prepared to kill _anyone _who dared cross by them.

The king was a tall man with sturdy shoulders. A permanent frown forever rested over his lips, breaking only in times of great victory. He had dark hair, darker than his cape, and eyes that seemingly get darker with every passing day. He always seemed to disapprove of everything the world did that didn't follow his commands. He always assumed that _his _ways were the best and only ways and that if the world didn't follow them that they were automatically incorrect. He knew better than to correct them though because with his duty of leader of the household, he knew that everyone had their own beliefs and he had to respect that.

The servant was a pleasant old man who took to aging well. He was always dressed formally, his clothes pressed and his ties straight. His eyes were always bright and he always delicately combed what was left of his hair before he approached the noble throne. Even when life was trying to smite him down with a strong and cold blade, he suffered on, keeping the warmest kindle of sunlight alive in his smile. He was dutiful, bound to serve his king until death do them part.

The prince was a small boy who had strayed a bit from the past, getting lost in the forest before the king had saved him and took him on as his own. His hair was a good length, as dark as the fears that forever haunted him. His eyes used to be ice, but over the years as he had gotten lost, the ice had thawed and heated until they were as dark as the oceans after the sun had set. The king had been so fearful of losing his new prince that he had confined him to the confines of the dark castle, causing the boy to be shockingly pale and fairly muscular from many years of failed escape attempts.

Every day, the prince would sit up in the highest tower on his bed, leaning out the balcony. He would hopefully watch over the yard, watching the city lights in the distance twinkle on and off. Some days, he'd dream about his life before the castle when he had been training to be a jester for the kingdom, wanting to amuse the people just as his parents had before him. One day though, someone in the kingdom didn't find them amusing and their wires were cut, granting them access to a life better than the one that the kingdom had to offer.

Other days when the gazing and thinking was just too dark to handle, the prince would go down into the room the king often made a great deal of avoiding. In this room, he would tirelessly practice the same gestures they would use to amuse the world, perfecting them in all of the ways he found physically possible. They weren't the humorous kind of jesters; they performed difficult and dangerous tasks to shock and awe those that needed it. Mostly, they'd just twist and flip on bars and wires above the earth, flipping and twisting through the air.

One day, the prince had the bar that dangled from the gallows, reinforced for his own amusement, in his hands. He held it tight as he jumped, swinging through the air. He felt like a free bird as he flew, smiling weakly at the temporary feeling of freedom. As he flipped through the air, his stomach familiarly dropped in dread. The same painstaking fear of not catching the bar and falling to his death like his parents had before him swept through his body, but he snagged the bar in his hands, holding it in a death grip. From there, he only let himself swing forward enough for him to drop safely down to the ground.

From there, he ascended the stairs, eager to approach the king with his thoughts. True, the king and him didn't exactly see eye to eye, but the king's parents had been taken from him so maybe the king would have something to tell him that would make him feel better.

As usual, the king was seated in his throne down in his inner sanctum, hunched over as he watched his city on the huge monitor in front of him. At first, he didn't notice the prince enter, but when he heard the familiar scuff of boots against the one uneven piece of flooring in the whole room. He turned around swiftly, a hand flying to the side he kept his sword. He never had to draw it though. He quickly recognized his heir and dashed to the prince's side.

They greeted with their regular hello's which consisted of curt nods. Then, the prince told his guardian of his fears. He went on from small detail to small detail, spilling it all like an overflowing glass of fruit punch. When he finished, the king looked at the mess before him, not wanting to dirty his hands by cleaning it up. Just like his castle, he was isolated from the world and knew little to nothing that he hadn't known before he had chosen to lock himself away from society. He had nothing more to offer than an apology before he called in his dutiful servant to sweep the trouble away for him so he could finish his work.

His heart permanently woven into his own cape, the prince staggered away in sadness. He _never _wanted to be king. As soon as he found a way to escape, he was going to abandon his crown and flee far from here. He hated being imprisoned. If it kept up, he figured he'd permanently be labeled 'the Damsel in Distress'. Then, knights of all sorts would come from far and wide to try to rescue him from the tower. They'd wrestle off the beasts in the moat, scale the highest tower and sweep him away, but only after being sure that the king wouldn't know for the longest while.

No one was brave enough to pursue him though, so he got used to the idea of being trapped in the grand castle. He got used to the fear that if he fell, no one would come to save him and he'd finally get to leave the castle and stop being a prince. Most importantly though, the prince decided that being royalty wasn't as awesome as it sounded in the fairytales. It was just a boring, inescapable tedium that haunted you down until you fell from the throne, crown and all.

**I didn't use a single thing of dialogue, let alone names! Yay~ That was actually kind of fun. Sorry I had to use gallows as the term for what held up the trapeze bar. I just figured that sense the gallows on Ghost Adventurers looked like they could hold a bar that maybe, just maybe, Bruce could adjust one for his little boy if they lived back in the Middle Ages. So uh, review?**

**-F.J.**


End file.
